I am glad that Natalia Cecire has published a commentary — The passion of Nate Silver (sort of) — on the recent attacks and counter-attacks on Nate Silver’s predictions for the upcoming presidential debate on his New York Times hosted blog, FiveThirtyEight. Silver was described by MSNBC’s Joe Scarborough as an “ideologue” and a “joke” who is biased in favor of Obama; and Silver’s defenders have accused his attackers as, among other things, “innumerate” and “braying idiot detractors.” On the one hand, this seems like just another pseudo-controversy ginned up in the current toxic political climate, but Cecire brings her feminist and literary critical insights.
In particular, she describes the Silver controversy as “puerile,” which she uses as a technical term to mean (white American) boyish play; specifically, in this case, with a kind of virtuosity with playing games with numbers. I remember myself playing Monopoly with Alan Kulevich when we were young teens, arguing over, bending, breaking, and rewriting the rules, trash talking one another, and I think I am not far from understanding what she means.
Silver himself has been largely silent on the controversy; it has been his attackers and his defenders who have engaged in the puerile discussion. But, as Cecire points out, Silver literally tried to turn the controversy into a game, offering to bet Scarborough $1,000 over the election, and was reprimanded by the New York Times’s public editor, Margaret Sullivan, for doing so. The editor said that Silver said he was being “half playful and half serious,” which Cecire says is “the essence of the appeal of FiveThirtyEight.”
I have just finished reading Silver’s recently published book, The Signal and the Noise, in which Silver describes, in its revealing subtitle, “Why So Many Predictions Fail — but Some Don’t.” Silver has been a successful predictor in three fields: professional baseball, online poker, and the winners of political races, especially the 2008 presidential election. The first two items are certainly games with numbers.
But Silver’s main goal in writing the book is to help a general educated audience to begin to think like a Bayesian. In the end, it’s a fairly modest attempt; in fact, the book is full of modest ambition, in which he describes the science of prediction in field after field — including stock-picking and finance, earthquakes, local weather beyond a seven-day horizon, terrorist attacks, and epidemiology — as failing to provide major insights. Other fields, such as short-term forecasts, where hurricanes will land, and Silver’s particular success stories, have been much more successful.
In one chapter, Silver describes “living in Bayesland,” where people are required to act on their Bayesian beliefs in a particular way: if they believe that something will happen with some degree of certainty, they have to make a bet with the same expected value; essentially, they need to put their money with their mouth is; to put up or shut up. I think this is what is behind Silver’s proffered bet to Scarborough; Scarborough believes the odds are about 1-1 for a Romney victory, and Silver 4-1 against; Silver would expect to make a lot of money. I think this is the serious part; the playful part is that it’s strictly for the game; the Red Cross would get the money in either case. On the one hand, this appears to be simply the gamification of prediction, but Silver’s point is different: he wants predictions to have real consequences for the people who make them. In the reputation economy of the Red Cross bet, Silver engaged in fairly skillful arbitrage — besides believing that he’d win this bet four out of five times, he won by even making the offer, and by shorting himself by having the donation go to New York relief. His reacted to the public editor’s admonition by tweeting, “I think Margaret Sullivan is a terrific Public Editor,” and then by donating $2,538 to the Red Cross (and inviting others to do the same). These, I would say, are signs of maturity. It was foolish to portray Silver as Galileo, but he is displaying a kind of grace under pressure we admire.
The factors which lead to successful Bayesian thinking include being able to accurately and quantitatively measure the underlying phenomenon at hand reliably (for example, a batter’s on-base percentage, polling demographics, or earthquake tremors). It also depends on the quality and scale of measurement; it is much more difficult to predict accurately when the scale is exponential than when it is linear; making even a small error on exponential problems (such as earthquakes) quickly leads to wildly inaccurate estimates. Unfortunately, many phenomena of interest have just the quality. We may be able to estimate that there is a 90% chance of a magnitude 8 earthquake at some location over some long time-frame, and, interestingly, we may be able to do the same for large-scale terrorist attack. But, in both cases, it is difficult to measure accurately and precisely; worse, causal theories are lacking which indicate what to measure in the first place.
Both earthquake and terrorist attack predictions are serious things. Silver relates how he was invited to a think-tank discussion on terrorism at a time inopportune for his political prediction work (right before the 2008 election), and, how inadequate he felt to the task once he arrived. I wonder if it felt more like being called up to the major leagues, or more like being called to put away childish things.
Silver’s book provides a sober assessment of both the need and the limits of prediction. Against type, he even approvingly quotes Donald Rumsfeld’s categories of “known unknowns” and “unknown unknowns,” which were widely ridiculed by liberals, but which reflect a somber reality. I suppose I wanted a happier ending to the book, a kind of Dummy’s Guide to Bayesian Reasoning that could be applied to every situation. But even though Silver strives to be a Bayesian, he is aware that limits on access to useful data, the flood of noisy data, our ability to measure, and the scale of the measurements all conspire to limit how well we can predict.
Cecire’s essay serves as a reminder, too, of the practical limitations of Bayesian reasoning. Understanding racial and gender demographics as applied to electoral politics is not the same as anti-racism or anti-sexism. Indeed, it can easily lead to increased power inequalities; the direct marketing experts and manipulators of conservative evangelicals are also expert Bayesians. As I write this post, there is an increasingly strong reaction against Sullivan’s admonition (for example, “A bet is a tax on bullshit”). Cecire prompts me to consider that bets, considered as taxes, are essentially regressive, and reminds me that other power relationships are involved; even winning at reputation in the large is a game that people who already have other kinds of power have leisure to play.
These have been a lot of fairly disparate thoughts. But let me make some predictions: if Obama wins, Silver’s reputation will increase by an irrationally large amount, if Romney wins, Silver’s reputation will decrease by an irrationally large amount. Indeed, Silver has said as much. But in the long term, his reputation for political predictions will continue to increase if he continues to apply his Bayesian and fairly open methodologies to the task.
Correction: Corrected “Nick” to “Nate”. What a weird typo — perhaps from Saint Nick or Nick Saint or Quicksilver or even Nick Adams.
Hi Will —
(Do you mean “Nate” instead of “Nick” in the above?)
I mostly disliked Cecire’s post, even though I felt that it had a couple of nice insights. My negative reaction is mostly to the genre within which she is writing, rather than to her particular contribution.
In this genre the author must adopt an omniscient voice, while making meta-level assertions about the people and social phenomena under examination. It is key to this omniscient style that the analysis is all directed outward to its subjects, with no direct accounting for the author’s involvement, situatedness, or commonality with those subjects. I get the same feeling when reading it as one does reading very old anthropology texts, from the era when the demarcation between the observers and the observed would have been very clear.
I don’t mean this as parody, exactly, but, as illustration of my reaction I will try to write a passage about Cecire’s piece that mirrors one of her passages about l’affaire Silver. She says this:
“When I use “puerility” in this way, I don’t mean it pejoratively but literally: this is a form of boyishness, as boyishness has been constructed in U.S. history. It’s concerned first and foremost with abstract play—even a certain virtuosity with play—and it is entirely bound up its own game. And it is a game that may be a little ruthless, a game that implicitly must be played by a white, boyish figure.”
Similarly, I find her expository stance here ‘maternalistic’, which I don’t mean in a pejorative sense, but as rhetorical strategy that gains authoritative force via literal re-enactment of a parental style constructed in 20th-century industrialized economies, particularly in the middle and upper-middle classes.
In the maternalistic tableau, the supervised children are focused inward, on their small group and a narrow, stipulated area of concern (the “game”). The maternal gaze has a much broader field, encompassing the children and the game with an ambivalent indulgence, but also attending to ‘real-world’ concerns beyond the game, both spatially and temporally.
Physically, the maternal parent typically stands both above and at some observational remove from the game. On rare occasion the parent may actually enter the game and “play along”, with a sort of willing suspension of distance and scope of view (usually this is accompanied by both drawing closer and moving physically lower, to join both the locus and the horizontal plane of the game), but this is understood to be temporary, and is usually done with a whimsical or ironic tone.
The game is contingent and limited, and continues in some sense only at the sufferance of the maternal parent. The children are granted provisional authority over the conduct of the game itself, but is a given that the relationship between the game and the situating context is understood only by the maternal parent, including the question of whether it is advisable for the game to continue.
In the maternalistic stance, the author attempts to reconstitute this tableau, with the corresponding construction of the game, the children, the comparative triviality of the game when compared to the author’s own concerns, and especially the deep asymmetry of understanding between parents and children about anything outside the boundaries of the game itself.
By adopting the maternalistic stance, the author gains rhetorical authority through attachment to metaphors of breadth of concern (spatial and temporal), physically distant and superior position (i.e. literally “looking down on” the game), and of course to parental knowledge and authority in general.
The maternalistic authorial role can only be taken by a woman.
(OK – I am done. I hope that this wasn’t offensive to anyone, but do note that, like Cecire, I disclaimed any pejorative intent early on.)
I do strongly agree with Cecire that Silver’s statistical approach to electoral prediction does not speak at all to the reasons why we should care about politics: its values, its consequences, the real roots of the powers that are being modeled, and so on. As pure “output”, Silver’s analyses are merely next-gen horse-race handicapping of political races, and as such have only the value of such handicapping, no matter how accurately done.
An allied but eloquent dismissal of Cecire’s:
“The key here is the word “understand.” Brooks thinks that Silver thinks he “understands” the future. But understanding has nothing to do with it; there are simulations, and they indicate the probability of potential outcomes. It’s not understanding; it’s pointing.”
I both agree and disagree here. I agree that it’s more like pointing than like understanding, in that there is no attempt at any modeling of *why* people report the views that they report that they have. It is just an attempt to predict ultimate voting behavior based on various samples of those reported views.
But I think that, as an exercise, attempting to predict elections with statistics is part of a much broader intellectual enterprise of seeing how far statistics can be pushed as a predictive framework (which is the real subject of Silver’s book). At this point the “game” opens out into the rest of the world (or at least I, in my puerility, believe that it does).
The extent to which predictive statistical models should count as ‘explanation’ is a lively question right now in AI, linguistics, and the philosophy of science. I think that I know which side of that controversy Cecire falls on. For myself, I’ve always liked what a good friend said to me a couple of decades ago : “Statistics is more interesting as epistemology than most epistemology is”.